


Dune: Paul’s Women, Chapter 17

by Wodric



Series: Dune: Paul’s Women [11]
Category: Dune (1984), Dune - All Media Types, Dune Series - Frank Herbert, Frank Herbert's Dune (2000)
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Female Relationships, Incest, Masturbation, Mother-Son Relationship, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-05 17:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12194718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wodric/pseuds/Wodric
Summary: Chapter’s summary:While in bed Lady Jessica delivers a mission to Shadout Mapes.Ducan Idaho returns drunk to the Palace (scene from the original book).Lady Jessica has a tense conversation with Thufir Hawat (scene from the original book).Shadout Mapes goes to Paul’s bedroom.Leto receives some unexpected visitors in his office on the command post.The Harkonnen attack seems eminent.See chapter 16: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10764924See chapter 18 and 19: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12265326





	Dune: Paul’s Women, Chapter 17

Paul’s Women

Book One: DUNE

Chapter 17

 

"There is no escape–we pay for the violence of our ancestors."

\- from "The Collected Sayings of Muad’Dib" by the Princess Irulan

 

Jessica caressed Mapes naked breast. Her fingers played with the nipple until it was fully erect.

“I need to ask you to do something to me”

Mapes stirred and placed a hand between Jessica’s legs.

“Again?” asked with a sleepy smile.

“I am serious, Mapes, listen to me!”

The Fremen women awakened, opened completely her blue eyes and stood up, seated cross-legged in the bed.

“I have a young daughter! Three years younger than Paul. The Bene Gesserit cannot know of her existence. If they know they will take her. I trust that you will keep the secret.”

“You can trust on me. I also have a daughter. Where is your daughter?”

“She remained in Caladan, but she will arrive in three days. I need that you will go to pick her discreetly to the guilds ship.”

“Very well.”

“Her name is Alia! She will arrive with her wet-nurse, Iphigenia. They travel together with no escort. No one knows her identity besides Leto and Paul. You can easily pick them when their ship arrives, without anyone noticing, and bring them to the palace.”

“Don’t worry. Rest assured, I will pick them.”

Jessica closed her eyes. She trusted Shadout Mapes, but there was something disturbing her. There was a path that she could not foresee.

Her lover laid down with her, embraced her tenderly, skin against skin, breasts against breast, and they felt asleep almost immediately both suffering from their long and tiresome evening.

Their rest was short. Jessica heard the disturbance in the great hall, turned on the light beside her bed. Mapes opened her blue eyes and blinked. The clock there had not been properly adjusted to local time, and she had to subtract twenty-one minutes to determine that it was about 2 A.M.

The disturbance was loud and incoherent.

“What is happening?” asked Mapes.

Is this the Harkonnen attack? Wondered Jessica.

They slipped out of bed. Mapes begun to dress. Jessica checked the screen monitors to see where her family was. The screen showed Paul’s bed still empty in the deep cellar room they’d hastily converted to a bedroom for him. There was also no one in the Duke’s room, his bed was unrumpled. Was he still at the field C.P.?

There were no screens yet to the front of the house.

Jessica stood in the middle of her room, listening.

There was one shouting, incoherent voice. She heard someone call for Dr. Yueh. Jessica found a robe, pulled it over her shoulders, pushed her feet into slippers, strapped the crysknife to her leg.

Again, a voice called out for Yueh.

Jessica belted the robe around her, stepped into the hallway followed by Mapes. Then the thought struck her: What if Leto’s hurt?

The hall seemed to stretch out forever under her running feet. She turned through the arch at the end, dashed past the dining hall and down the passage to the Great Hall, finding the place brightly lighted, all the wall suspensors glowing at maximum.

To her right near the front entry, she saw two house guards holding Duncan Idaho between them. His head lolled forward, and there was an abrupt, panting silence to the scene.

One of the house guards spoke accusingly to Idaho:

"You see what you did? You woke the Lady Jessica."

The great draperies billowed behind the men, showing that the front door remained open. There was no sign of the Duke or Yueh. Mapes stood to one side staring coldly at Idaho. She wore a long brown robe with serpentine design at the hem. Her feet were pushed into unlaced desert boots.

"So I woke the Lady Jessica," Idaho muttered. He lifted his face toward the ceiling, bellowed: "My sword was firs’ blooded on Grumman!"

Great Mother! He’s drunk! Jessica thought.

Idaho’s dark, round face was drawn into a frown. His hair, curling like the fur of a black goat, was plastered with dirt. A jagged rent in his tunic exposed an expanse of the dress shirt he had worn at the dinner party earlier.

Jessica crossed to him.

One of the guards nodded to her without releasing his hold on Idaho. "We didn’t know what to do with him, my Lady. He was creating a disturbance out front, refusing to come inside. We were afraid locals might come along and see him. That wouldn’t do at all. Give us a bad name here."

"Where has he been?" Jessica asked.

"He escorted one of the young ladies home from the dinner, my Lady. Hawat’s orders."

"Which young lady?"

"One of the escort wenches. You understand, my Lady?" He glanced at Mapes, lowered his voice. "They’re always calling on Idaho for special surveillance of the ladies."

And Jessica thought: So they are. But why is he drunk?

She frowned, turned to Mapes.

"Mapes, bring a stimulant. I’d suggest caffeine. Perhaps there’s some of the spice coffee left."

Mapes shrugged, headed for the kitchen. Her unlaced desert boots slap- slapped against the stone floor.

Idaho swung his unsteady head around to peer at an angle toward Jessica.

"Killed more’n three hunner ’ men f’r the Duke," he muttered. "Whadduh wanna know is why’m mere? Can’t live unner th’ groun’ here. Can’t live onna groun’ here. Wha’ kinna place is ’iss, huh?"

A sound from the side hall entry caught Jessica’s attention. She turned, saw Yueh crossing to them, his medical kit swinging in his left hand. He was fully dressed, looked pale, exhausted. The diamond tattoo stood out sharply on his forehead.

"Th’ good docker!" Idaho shouted. "Whad’re you, Doc? Splint ’n’ pill man?" He turned blearily toward Jessica. "Makin’ uh damn fool uh m’self, huh?"

Jessica frowned, remained silent, wondering: Why would Idaho get drunk? Was he drugged?

"Too much spice beer," Idaho said, attempting to straighten.

Mapes returned with a steaming cup in her hands, stopped uncertainly behind Yueh. She looked at Jessica, who shook her head.

Yueh put his kit on the floor, nodded greeting to Jessica, said:

"Spice beer, eh?"

"Bes’ damn stuff ever tas’ed," Idaho said. He tried to pull himself to attention. "My sword was firs’ blooded on Grumman! Killed a Harkon . . . Harkon . . . killed ’im f’r th’ Duke."

Yueh turned, looked at the cup in Mapes’ hand.

"What is that?"

"Caffeine," Jessica said.

Yueh took the cup, held it toward Idaho. "Drink this, lad."

"Don’t wan’ any more f drink."

"Drink it, I say!"

Idaho’s head wobbled toward Yueh, and he stumbled one step ahead, dragging the guards with him.

"I’m almighdy fed up with pleasin’ th’ ’Mperial Universe, Doc. Jus’ once, we’re gonna do th’ thing my way."

"After you drink this," Yueh said. "It’s just caffeine."

" ’Sprolly like all res’ uh this place! Damn’ sun ’stoo brighd. Nothin’ has uh righd color. Ever ’thing’s wrong or . . . "

"Well, it’s nighttime now," Yueh said. He spoke reasonably. "Drink this like a good lad. It’ll make you feel better."

"Don’ wanna feel bedder!"

"We can’t argue with him all night," Jessica said. And she thought: This calls for shock treatment.

"There’s no reason for you to stay, my Lady," Yueh said. "I can take care of this."

Jessica shook her head. She stepped forward, slapped Idaho sharply across the cheek.

He stumbled back with his guards, glaring at her.

"This is no way to act in your Duke’s home," she said. She snatched the cup from Yueh’s hands, spilling part of it, thrust the cup toward Idaho. "Now drink this! That’s an order!"

Idaho jerked himself upright, scowling down at her. He spoke slowly, with careful and precise enunciation:

"I do not take orders from a damn’ Harkonnen spy."

Yueh stiffened, whirled to face Jessica.

Her face had gone pale, but she was nodding. It all became clear to her–the broken stems of meaning she had seen in words and actions around her these past few days could now be translated. She found herself in the grip of anger almost too great to contain. It took the most profound of her Bene Gesserit training to quiet her pulse and smooth her breathing. Even then she could feel the blaze flickering.

They were always calling on Idaho for surveillance of the ladies!

She shot a glance at Yueh. The doctor lowered his eyes.

"You knew this?" she demanded.

"I... heard rumors, my Lady. But I didn’t want to add to your burdens."

"Hawat!" she snapped. "I want Thufir Hawat brought to me immediately!"

"But, my Lady..."

"Immediately!"

It has to be Hawat, she thought. Suspicion such as this could come from no other source without being discarded immediately.

Idaho shook his head, mumbled. "Chuck th’ whole damn thing."

Jessica looked down at the cup in her hand, abruptly dashed its contents across Idaho’s face. "Lock him in one of the guest rooms of the east wing," she ordered. "Let him sleep it off."

The two guards stared at her unhappily. One ventured: "Perhaps we should take him someplace else, m’Lady. We could..."

"He’s supposed to be here!" Jessica snapped. "He has a job to do here." Her voice dripped bitterness. "He’s so good at watching the ladies."

The guard swallowed.

"Do you know where the Duke is?" she demanded.

"He’s at the command post, my Lady."

"Is Hawat with him?"

"Hawat’s in the city, my Lady."

"You will bring Hawat to me at once," Jessica said. "I will be in my sitting room when he arrives."

"But, my Lady..."

"If necessary, I will call the Duke," she said. "I hope it will not be necessary. I would not want to disturb him with this."

"Yes, my Lady."

Jessica thrust the empty cup into Mapes’ hands, met the questioning stare of the blue-within-blue eyes.

"You may return to your bed, Mapes."

"You’re sure you’ll not need me?"

Jessica smiled grimly. "I’m sure. Please just check were is Paul, before you go to bed!”

"Perhaps this could wait until tomorrow," Yueh said. "I could give you a sedative and…"

"You will return to your quarters and leave me to handle this my way," she said. She patted his arm to take the sting out of her command. "This is the only way."

Abruptly, head high, she turned and stalked off through the house to her rooms. Cold walls... passages... a familiar door... She jerked the door open, strode in, and slammed it behind her. Jessica stood there glaring at the shield-blanked windows of her sitting room. Hawat! Could he be the one the Harkonnens bought? We shall see.

Jessica crossed to the deep, old-fashioned armchair with an embroidered cover of schlag skin, moved the chair into position to command the door. She was suddenly very conscious of the crysknife in its sheath on her leg. She removed the sheath and strapped it to her arm, tested the drop of it. Once more, she glanced around the room, placing everything precisely in her mind against any emergency: the chaise near the corner, the straight chairs along the wall, the two low tables, her stand-mounted zither beside the door to her bedroom.

Pale rose light glowed from the suspensor lamps. She dimmed them, sat down in the armchair, patting the upholstery, appreciating the chair’s regal heaviness for this occasion.

Now, let him come, she thought. We shall see what we shall see. And she prepared herself in the Bene Gesserit fashion for the wait, accumulating patience, saving her strength.

***

Paul sensed the body figure in his bed as soon as he opened the door, even before he saw it. The only hesitation from him was to determine who was there.

Then he relaxed when he recognized her sweet odor with a taste of spice.

She breathed with the smooth regularity of a sleeper.

He closed the door softly but she woke up.

“Young master!” she stood up quickly.

“Shadout! Were you expecting me?”

“Lady Jessica asked me to check on you when she didn’t saw you on the screen.”

“She called you for that?”

The Fremen woman avoided Paul’s blue eyes.

“She had other things to attend. Duncan Idaho was drunk and was causing some disturbance in the Hall.”

“Yes, I heard him even now. He seems calmer!”

“How were the things with the princess, Young Master?”

Paul had the idea that there was a smile in Mapes’ lips. Paul didn’t took the bait.

“The emperor surely knows about the traitor, but she doesn’t know who he is. We will be attacked soon. Obviously not today. Any attack will wait at least until the princess is out of the Planet. Without finding the traitor we can’t do much more for now. Hawat has some suspects.”

“You know that it is not your mother!” assured Mapes.

“Yes, I know! But Hawat doesn’t.” Paul approached the bed. “I need to rest a couple of hours”

“I will leave you…”

“No… please… stay…” Paul looked at her. She only wore a light gray nightshirt “I would like that you would stay!”

She raised her eyes to meet his and showed a sad smile to him.

“Young Master… Paul… you are a lovely young man. But I am a married woman! I have a daughter of your age!”

“You have?… I didn’t knew that!”

“You don’t know much about me, do you?” she approached him and with her hands made him turn his back to her. “Here, let me help you to undress this coat. “What append to your uniform? It is still wet! You were in the greenhouse!”

“I showed the greenhouse to the princess Irulan!” he answered while she continued to undress him. He felt tired and sleepy. It was good to have someone to help him. He made another turn so she could open the shirt buttons.

“So why were you inviting me? That means that you are in the mood tonight?”

“I didn’t had sex with the princess, if that is what you are implying!”

Mapes hands moved down. He smiled, she had changed her mind. She unlocked his belt, gave him a quick peck in the lips, and pushed him hard. Paul felt on the bed.

“That means that I am the plan B?”

She leaned forward above him. With the movement her light nightshirt opened a bit. Instinctively Paul moved his head down. She had no underwear. He could see her beautiful cleavage and almost all her left breast until the dark nipple.

“Raise you buttocks!” she ordered.

He obeyed so she could push down his pants. With the movement her head was so near his waist.

“I can see your breast! You have a lovely breast!”

She laugh! “And I can see your penis! It is erect and out of the cage!”

“I sleep naked!” he raised his buttocks again and removed his underwear.

She opened the sheets; her continuous movements made her breasts balance. It was a lovely sight!

Paul adjust himself in the bed, with his head on the pillow.

“You were sleeping here, waiting for me! Why do don’t you lied down with me? You also need to rest and I would enjoy your company!”

She made a soft caress in his naked chest. Smiled while looking to his erect penis.

“Don’t you need some privacy?”

“That thing is like that for hours. I can handle a few more.”

She lay down and rested her head in his shoulder. He embraced her and gave her a chaste kiss in the forehead.

“Your husband would mind if you would become my concubine?”

She already had her eyes closed but still made a laugh.

“Yes, he would!”

“He is a Fremen?”

Shadout Mapes didn’t answer for a while. Paul taught that she was sleeping again.

“He became one” she finally said.

“Where is he?”

“Here, in Arrakeen.”

“And your daughter?”

“She has been raised in a Fremen Sietch. She is safe!”

The moments passed. Her breath became again more regular. But Paul felt with an increasing intensity her soft breasts pressed against his naked chest, with only her light nightshirt in between.

“Shadout?”

“Hmmm?! What?”

“Take off your nightshirt. We would be more comfortable.”

She half opened her blue spiced eyes again. Then she rose a bit and with a swift movement she removed her nightshirt over her head maintaining solely a small tongue around her hips. Her boobs, round and firm, bounced freely giving Paul the visual reward that he craved.

Shadout shrived with cold, made a slow rotation and lay down again above Paul.

“Cover me with the sheets.” she asked him.

He indulged her. But took advantage of the movement to rotate again with her in the bed, so they would lay, side by side, facing each other. This way she wasn’t on top, her breasts weren’t smashed against his chest, but gave him a free right hand that could be moved slowly from her buttocks, playing with the skin, until he reached her visible breast to take him in the hand.

“Why do I have the idea that you won’t let me sleep?”

He kept his silence, fondling her.

“You know that I am not ready to cross some boundaries.”

“I know.”

***

Sooner than Jessica had expected, a rap sounded at the door and Hawat entered at her command.

She watched him without moving from the chair, seeing the crackling sense of drug-induced energy in his movements, seeing the fatigue beneath. Hawat’s rheumy old eyes glittered. His leathery skin appeared faintly yellow in the room’s light, and there was a wide, wet stain on the sleeve of his knife arm.

She smelled blood there.

Jessica gestured to one of the straight-backed chairs, said: "Bring that chair and sit facing me."

Hawat bowed, obeyed. That drunken fool of an Idaho! he thought. He studied Jessica’s face, wondering how he could save this situation.

"It’s long past time to clear the air between us," Jessica said.

"What troubles my Lady?" He sat down, placed hands on knees.

"Don’t play coy with me!" she snapped. "If Yueh didn’t tell you why I summoned you, then one of your spies in my household did. Shall we be at least that honest with each other?"

"As you wish, my Lady."

"First, you will answer me one question," she said. "Are you now a Harkonnen agent?"

Hawat surged half out of his chair, his face dark with fury, demanding: "You dare insult me so?"

"Sit down," she said. "You insulted me so."

Slowly, he sank back into the chair.

And Jessica, reading the signs of this face that she knew so well, allowed herself a deep breath. It isn’t Hawat.

"Now I know you remain loyal to my Duke," she said. "I’m prepared, therefore, to forgive your affront to me."

"Is there something to forgive?"

Jessica scowled, wondering: Shall I play my trump? Shall I tell him of the Duke’s daughter I’ve carried within me these few weeks? No... Leto himself doesn’t know. This would only complicate his life, divert him in a time when he must concentrate on our survival. There is yet time to use this.

"A Truthsayer would solve this," she said, "but we have no Truthsayer qualified by the High Board."

"As you say. We’ve no Truthsayer."

"Is there a traitor among us?" she asked. "I’ve studied our people with great care. Who could it be? Not Gurney. Certainly not Duncan. Their lieutenants are not strategically enough placed to consider. It’s not you, Thufir. It cannot be Paul. I know it’s not me. Dr. Yueh, then? Shall I call him in and put him to the test?"

"You know that’s an empty gesture," Hawat said. "He’s conditioned by the High College. That I know for certain."

"Not to mention that his wife was a Bene Gesserit slain by the Harkonnens," Jessica said.

"So that’s what happened to her," Hawat said.

"Haven’t you heard the hate in his voice when he speaks the Harkonnen name?"

"You know I don’t have the ear," Hawat said.

"What brought this base suspicion on me?" she asked.

Hawat frowned.

"My Lady puts her servant in an impossible position. My first loyalty is to the Duke."

"I’m prepared to forgive much because of that loyalty," she said.

"And again I must ask: Is there something to forgive?"

"Stalemate?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"Let us discuss something else for a minute, then," she said. "Duncan Idaho, the admirable fighting man whose abilities at guarding and surveillance are so esteemed. Tonight, he overindulged in something called spice beer. I hear reports that others among our people have been stupefied by this concoction. Is that true?"

"You have your reports, my Lady."

"So I do. Don’t you see this drinking as a symptom, Thufir?"

"My Lady speaks riddles."

"Apply your Mentat abilities to it!" she snapped. "What’s the problem with Duncan and the others? I can tell you in four words–they have no home."

He jabbed a finger at the floor. "Arrakis, that’s their home."

"Arrakis is an unknown! Caladan was their home, but we’ve uprooted them. They have no home. And they fear the Duke’s failing them."

He stiffened. "Such talk from one of the men would be cause for–"

"Oh, stop that, Thufir. Is it defeatist or treacherous for a doctor to diagnose a disease correctly? My only intention is to cure the disease."

"The Duke gives me charge over such matters."

"But you understand I have a certain natural concern over the progress of this disease," she said. "And perhaps you’ll grant I have certain abilities along these lines."

Will I have to shock him severely? she wondered. He needs shaking up– something to break him from routine.

"There could be many interpretations for your concern," Hawat said. He shrugged.

"Then you’ve already convicted me?"

"Of course not, my Lady. But I cannot afford to take any chances, the situation being what it is."

"A threat to my son got past you right here in this house," she said. "Who took that chance?"

His face darkened. "I offered my resignation to the Duke."

"Did you offer your resignation to me... or to Paul?"

Now he was openly angry, betraying it in quickness of breathing, in dilation of nostrils, a steady stare. She saw a pulse beating at his temple.

"I’m the Duke’s man," he said, biting off the words.

"There is no traitor," she said. "The threat’s something else. Perhaps it has to do with the lasguns. Perhaps they’ll risk secreting a few lasguns with timing mechanisms aimed at house shields. Perhaps they’ll..."

"And who could tell after the blast if the explosion wasn’t atomic?" he asked. "No, my Lady. They’ll not risk anything that illegal. Radiation lingers. The evidence is hard to erase. No. They’ll observe most of the forms. It has to be a traitor."

"You’re the Duke’s man," she sneered. "Would you destroy him in the effort to save him?"

He took a deep breath, then:

"If you’re innocent, you’ll have my most abject apologies."

"Look at you now, Thufir," she said. "Humans live best when each has his own place, when each knows where he belongs in the scheme of things. Destroy the place and destroy the person. You and I, Thufir, of all those who love the Duke, are most ideally situated to destroy the other’s place. Could I not whisper suspicions about you into the Duke’s ear at night? When would he be most susceptible to such whispering, Thufir? Must I draw it for you more clearly?"

"You threaten me?" he growled.

"Indeed not. I merely point out to you that someone is attacking us through the basic arrangement of our lives. It’s clever, diabolical. I propose to negate this attack by so ordering our lives that there’ll be no chinks for such barbs to enter."

"You accuse me of whispering baseless suspicions?"

"Baseless, yes."

"You’d meet this with your own whispers?"

"Your life is compounded of whispers, not mine, Thufir."

"Then you question my abilities?"

She sighed.

"Thufir, I want you to examine your own emotional involvement in this. The natural human’s an animal without logic. Your projections of logic onto all affairs is unnatural, but suffered to continue for its usefulness. You’re the embodiment of logic–a Mentat. Yet, your problem solutions are concepts that, in a very real sense, are projected outside yourself, there to be studied and rolled around, examined from all sides."

"You think now to teach me my trade?" he asked, and he did not try to hide the disdain in his voice.

"Anything outside yourself, this you can see and apply your logic to it," she said. "But it’s a human trait that when we encounter personal problems, those things most deeply personal are the most difficult to bring out for our logic to scan. We tend to flounder around, blaming everything but the actual, deep-seated thing that’s really chewing on us."

"You’re deliberately attempting to undermine my faith in my abilities as a Mentat," he rasped. "Were I to find one of our people attempting thus to sabotage any other weapon in our arsenal, I should not hesitate to denounce and destroy him."

"The finest Mentats have a healthy respect for the error factor in their computations," she said.

"I’ve never said otherwise!"

"Then apply yourself to these symptoms we’ve both seen: drunkenness among the men, quarrels – they gossip and exchange wild rumors about Arrakis; they ignore the most simple–"

"Idleness, no more," he said. "Don’t try to divert my attention by trying to make a simple matter appear mysterious."

She stared at him, thinking of the Duke’s men rubbing their woes together in the barracks until you could almost smell the charge there, like burnt insulation. They’re becoming like the men of the pre-Guild legend, she thought: Like the men of the lost star-searcher, Ampoliros – sick at their guns – forever seeking, forever prepared and forever unready.

"Why have you never made full use of my abilities in your service to the Duke?" she asked. "Do you fear a rival for your position?"

He glared at her, the old eyes blazing.

"I know some of the training they give you Bene Gesserit..." He broke off, scowling.

"Go ahead, say it," she said. "Bene Gesserit witches."

"I know something of the real training they give you," he said. "I’ve seen it come out in Paul. I’m not fooled by what your schools tell the public: you exist only to serve."

The shock must be severe and he’s almost ready for it, she thought.

"You listen respectfully to me in Council," she said, "yet you seldom heed my advice. Why?"

"I don’t trust your Bene Gesserit motives," he said. "You may think you can look through a man; you may think you can make a man do exactly what you–"

"You poor fool, Thufir!" she raged.

He scowled, pushing himself back in the chair.

"Whatever rumors you’ve heard about our schools," she said, "the truth is far greater. If I wished to destroy the Duke... or you, or any other person within my reach, you could not stop me."

And she thought: Why do I let pride drive such words out of me? This is not the way I was trained. This is not how I must shock him.

Hawat slipped a hand beneath his tunic where he kept a tiny projector of poison darts. She wears no shield, he thought. Is this just a brag she makes? I could slay her now... but, ah-h-h-h, the consequences if I’m wrong.

Jessica saw the gesture toward his pocket, said:

"Let us pray violence shall never be necessary between us."

"A worthy prayer," he agreed.

"Meanwhile, the sickness spreads among us," she said. "I must ask you again: Isn’t it more reasonable to suppose the Harkonnens have planted this suspicion to pit the two of us against each other?"

"We appear to’ve returned to stalemate," he said.

She sighed, thinking: He’s almost ready for it.

"The Duke and I are father and mother surrogates to our people," she said. "The position–"

"He hasn’t married you," Hawat said.

She forced herself to calmness, thinking: A good riposte, that.

"But he’ll not marry anyone else," she said. "Not as long as I live. And we are surrogates, as I’ve said. To break up this natural order in our affairs, to disturb, disrupt, and confuse us–which target offers itself most enticingly to the Harkonnens?"

He sensed the direction she was taking, and his brows drew down in a lowering scowl.

"The Duke?" she asked. "Attractive target, yes, but no one with the possible exception of Paul is better guarded. Me? I tempt them, surely, but they must know the Bene Gesserit make difficult targets. And there’s a better target, one whose duties create, necessarily, a monstrous blind spot. One to whom suspicion is as natural as breathing. One who builds his entire life on innuendo and mystery." She darted her right hand toward him. "You!"

Hawat started to leap from his chair.

"I have not dismissed you, Thufir!" she flared.

The old Mentat almost fell back into the chair, so quickly did his muscles betray him.

She smiled without mirth.

"Now you know something of the real training they give us," she said.

Hawat tried to swallow in a dry throat. Her command had been regal, preemptory–uttered in a tone and manner he had found completely irresistible. His body had obeyed her before he could think about it. Nothing could have prevented his response–not logic, not passionate anger . . . nothing. To do what she had done spoke of a sensitive, intimate knowledge of the person thus commanded, a depth of control he had not dreamed possible.

"I have said to you before that we should understand each other," she said. "I meant you should understand me. I already understand you. And I tell you now that your loyalty to the Duke is all that guarantees your safety with me."

He stared at her, wet his lips with his tongue.

"If I desired a puppet, the Duke would marry me," she said. "He might even think he did it of his own free will."

Hawat lowered his head, looked upward through his sparse lashes. Only the most rigid control kept him from calling the guard. Control... and the suspicion now that woman might not permit it. His skin crawled with the memory of how she had controlled him. In the moment of hesitation, she could have drawn a weapon and killed him!

Does every human have this blind spot? he wondered. Can any of us be ordered into action before he can resist? The idea staggered him. Who could stop a person with such power?

"You’ve glimpsed the fist within the Bene Gesserit glove," she said. "Few glimpse it and live. And what I did was a relatively simple thing for us. You’ve not seen my entire arsenal. Think on that,"

"Why aren’t you out destroying the Duke’s enemies?" he asked.

"What would you have me destroy?" she asked. "Would you have me make a weakling of our Duke, have him forever leaning on me?"

"But, with such power..."

"Power ’s a two-edged sword, Thufir," she said; "You think: ’How easy for her to shape a human tool to thrust into an enemy’s vitals.’ True, Thufir; even into your vitals. Yet, what would I accomplish? If enough of us Bene Gesserit did this, wouldn’t it make all Bene Gesserit suspect? We don’t want that, Thufir. We do not wish to destroy ourselves." She nodded. "We truly exist only to serve."

"I cannot answer you," he said. "You know I cannot answer."

"You’ll say nothing about what has happened here to anyone," she said. "I know you, Thufir."

"My Lady..." Again the old man tried to swallow in a dry throat.

And he thought: She has great powers, yes. But would these not make her an even more formidable tool for the Harkonnens?

"The Duke could be destroyed as quickly by his friends as by his enemies," she said. "I trust now you’ll get to the bottom of this suspicion and remove it."

"If it proves baseless," he said.

"If," she sneered.

"If," he said.

"You are tenacious," she said.

"Cautious," he said, "and aware of the error factor."

"Then I’ll pose another question for you: What does it mean to you that you stand before another human, that you are bound and helpless and the other human holds a knife at your throat–yet this other human refrains from killing you, frees you from your bonds and gives you the knife to use as you will?"

She lifted herself out of the chair, turned her back on him.

"You may go now, Thufir."

The old Mentat arose, hesitated, hand creeping toward the deadly weapon beneath his tunic. He was reminded of the bull ring and of the Duke’s father (who’d been brave, no matter what his other failings) and one day of the corrida long ago: The fierce black beast had stood there, head bowed, immobilized and confused. The Old Duke had turned his back on the horns, cape thrown flamboyantly over one arm, while cheers rained down from the stands.

I am the bull and she the matador, Hawat thought. He withdrew his hand from the weapon, glanced at the sweat glistening in his empty palm.

And he knew that whatever the facts proved to be in the end, he would never forget this moment nor lose this sense of supreme admiration for the Lady Jessica.

Quietly, he turned and left the room.

Jessica lowered her gaze from the reflection in the windows, turned, and stared at the closed door.

"Now we’ll see some proper action," she whispered.

***

Leto rose up when he saw the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam enter his office. He didn’t knew why, but he always felt unsure towards her perfect angelic oval face, her well proportioned cheekbones, and her quivering engorged inviting lips. Her light dark blue dress highlighted her pale skin. Her pale long legs. Her voluptuous chess barely hidden with the revealing cleavage and the thin fabric.

“I knew you would be in Arrakis when I saw the princess! Why do you called me? You surely know that Jessica is at the ball.”

“I summoned you because I came to see you! I don’t want to see Jessica tonight.”

She approached him and slowly rested her hands in his chest. Gradually her hands caressed his military dolman making him unease. Her hands burned him. Her women smell awakened a desire long forgotten.

He avoided looking at her. He avoided her eyes and her soft full breasts barely concealed before being pressed against his chest.

“Why do you called me?” he asked again.

“Before you choose Jessica in the Bene Gesserit school, where you really in love with me?”

“So many years have passed… why the question, now?”

“We all have regrets, Leto.”

“You wanted to be the Emperor’s concubine and truth seer! A duke was not enough! You made it!”

“My life would have been much simple if I would have accepted to be your concubine! But the destiny wasn’t in my hands.”

“Why all this now?”

“I want a daughter of yours! The daughter that Jessica didn’t conceived for you!”

“So… they still don’t know about Alia!” taught Leto and quickly stepped away his mind from his daughter. The truth seer couldn’t sense his fear.

There was only one way… he had to attack! He leaned forward and kissed her.

“I still desire you!” in a quick move he opened her dress and set her breasts free. They bounced and he cupped them hard, stiffening her nipples.

A smile of triumph appeared in Mohiam’s face. She begun to unbutton his dolman.

“I would expect that you would try to remain faithful to your Jessica!”

“Keep your daughter out of our conversation! You pushed me to pick her at the school.”

“You told her that I am her mother?”

Leto froze. Mohiam was the emperor’s truth seer. She felt the need to have leverage, even in the most intimate details.

“No. I couldn’t. I would hurt her.” He had to answer the true. Mohiam would have felt the lie.

She didn’t react and continued to undress Leto, kissing his chest. She took off his dolman and let it fall on the desk. Then his shirt. Her experienced fingers caressed his chest, with long circles, before moving slowly to his belt, unlocking it. She quickly unbuttoned his pants and tugged his briefs down to his feet. He looked down at her, his hard cock ready and waiting just in front of her, almost touching her sweet face.

Mohiam leaned her head forward and slowly planted soft kisses along the engorged member.

Leto closed his eyes as he felt an unbelievably warm, wet sensation wrap around the head of his penis. When he reopened them, the feeling continued to move further and further down his cock. Mohiam was bobbing up and down on his penis, her pretty hair bouncing with every motion.

He smiled. For a moment he felt like an Emperor, having his concubine at his feet. Also, there was a time when Leto was in love by her. A time when Gaius Helen Mohiam body and skills dominated his thoughts to the point of obsession. A time when he was a young duke in the hands of an already experienced woman, an ambitious Bene Gesserit, with her secret ambitions and her secret orders.

Why would the Bene Gesserit want a daughter from him? He had to know. He had to avoid it.

Mohiam sensed that he was on the edge and rose up. She raised the flaps of her dress and with her experienced hand guided his member into her.

“I can’t” thought Leto while sucking her breast.

***

Lady Jessica entered in her son’s bedroom silently, without wanting to wake him up. To her surprise he wasn’t a sleep.

Her son was totally naked in the bed embracing a equally totally naked Mapes and sucking with hunger from her left breast. She was partially above him, with her right hand closed around his erect member and masturbating him so intensely that he couldn’t last much more.

Paul’s hips arose from the bed several times, his hands were closed around Mapes’ breasts, squeezing them, while he seemed uncertain if he would suck one or the other, or just burry his face on Mapes’ neck line while her free hand invaded his hair, massaging his nape, and crushing his face against her body.

The Fremen woman saw Jessica, but she didn’t stop, she just kept going feeling that he was one the edge, and rubbing her breasts one Paul’s face, impeding him to see his mother.

Jessica just stood there, watching. Maybe Paul was right! Maybe Mapes could be his first concubine. She bite her lips with a jealous feeling inside her to have to divide her lover with her son.

Her son moaned. He raised high his hips and begun to flood the bed. His semen reached Mape’s belly and breasts, and the following waves wet her hand and felt in his body. They kissed gently for a while, she whispered good nigh at his hear, and he quickly felt asleep.

Finally Mapes left the bed. Slowly, she approached Jessica, while sucking her wet hand and picking drops of sperm from her body. She offered her hand to Jessica:

"Do you want water?"

Jessica stepped back in surprise and shook her head in a negative silent assessment.

"He is asleep now," – said the Fremen woman while dressing the light gray nightshirt, – "I will go to bed!"

This time Jessica nodded and waited for her to leave. Then she approached the bed to see her son in a full sleep.

His belly and chest were still full of sperm drops.

She picked a towel and moistened a tip with her own saliva to begin to clean her son. The chest, the belly, the penis. He stirred but he didn’t woke up. Then she covered him with the sheets and leaved the room.

***

“You hurt me!” said Mohiam in a bitter tone.

Leto seated on the top of the desk and looked to the head of his already softening penis. There was some blood in the tip.

He let a sat smile appear in his face.

“In your anus or in your pride?”

“Both.”

She picked a small flask tube from her dress. She dove her index finger in the interior and then begun to rub the finger between her buttocks.

“What is that?”

“It will help me to heal.”

“It is time for you to go, Mohiam”

But she wasn’t a woman to give up. She felt again on the knees, in front of him and begun to suck him again, near her dark blue dress that laid on the floor. Quickly his penis was again totally clean.

“We are not young anymore, Mohiam, it will take some time!”

He was surprised with his prompt reaction. She had probably spice in her lips or tongue. Mohiam mouth released his member but she continued to masturbate him with her hands and breasts. It was hard enough so she could talk.

“I don’t want your semen in my butt. I want to conceive a daughter. You know that I won’t leave you until I have what I want.”

He sensed despair in her voice.

“You could had conceived my daughter many years ago when we were lovers, instead you put your daughter in my bed… so why now… so many years later?”

She didn’t answer to him, she just continued to suck until he surrendered and his hips begun to respond to her tongue caresses.

Leto knew that he was trapped. Mohiam would sense the moment and this time she would be much more careful with his ejaculation.

The duke had to think fast, his mind tried to delay his feral need, but he needed time. For several occasions he would pull Mohiam’s face up to kiss her in the lips, but she had managed to keep pumping him.

When he was almost giving up, the office door opened with a stamp.

"Jessica!"

Mohiam stopped and turned her head to the concubine’s duke. Lady Jessica was pale but her green eyes showed her anger.

"I think it is time to you to leave, Reverend Mother!"

Gaius Helen Mohiam stood in silence by a brief instant, than she slightly nodded with her head, picked her dress from the floor and dragging it leaved the room without even dressing it or trying to covering herself, gathering all the dignity that she could. Jessica just stood aside to let her pass.

Then she gave to steps to enter into the office. She closed the door and look to the duke, still half seated in the desk, pants downs around the ankles, dolman and shirt opened to reveal his chest.

"Why her?"

"You know that we were lovers before you became my concubine."

"Yes, but why now?"

"She wants a daughter from me. It was the best option to continue to hide our daughter from the truth seer."

"She can’t conceive with her mouth!"

"That comment is unnecessary."

"At least cover yourself!"

"I can’t – even if he begun to button the shirt." She probably had spice in her mouth.

Two tears rolled from Jessica’s eyes. The duke’s concubine gave some more steps in the office, somewhat unsecure, to fell in her knees before the duke, and took Mohiam’s previous position.


End file.
